Stayin' Alive
by wsprsndadrk
Summary: a quick little ficlet from an idea that came out of no where and had me laughing so hard I cried. Suffice it to say, Vegeta's got moves.


Yamcha sucked in a breath between clenched teeth. He felt surreal; weightless and dizzy, yet stuck to the floor like his feet had grown roots that anchored him to hell. He stared over Bulma's shoulder at the screen in horrible fascination, completely thunderstruck. He didn't know if he would throw up or giggle like a person gone mad, but either was likely, and probably both at the same time when his heart dropped back into place.

Uncertain whether he should feel privileged or doomed, he committed to neither and instead decided to acknowledge the next most obnoxiously active emotion spinning inside his skull.

Awe.

"How the _fuck_ did you do this?"

Bulma preened and threw a sultry side grin over her shoulder, shrugging in false modesty as she did so. "You doubt me?" She asked, sweetly.

He sputtered, truly speechless. Had he known she'd be capable of such a feat? Probably – had he ever stopped to really consider it. Yet he hadn't thought about it. And why would he? Because _why would she do this_? Like… ever?

He felt her eyes on him and glanced down at her. She was brimming with wicked mischief, completely proud of herself. Dear God, she'd be the death of them all.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, but couldn't resist the tug of his lip as it curved upwards.

She beamed in triumph. "I told him it was a new training regime; something for coordination. He has plenty of strength augmentation exercises, but comparatively little for dexterity, endurance, and balance."

Yamcha pursed his lips wryly at her. "More like he pissed you off."

She ignored his comment and swiveled her chair back to face the screen of her consul. "Well… yeah," she quipped as she tapped at her keyboard. "He once told me nothing was keeping him from destroying me and all that I loved. This is leverage." She pressed a few more buttons with a satisfied sigh and turned to face him. The computer beeped an affirmative and moments later, a new program initiated. On the other side of the screen, Vegeta's movements altered.

Yamcha stuffed a fist to his mouth but was too late to stop the snort. Bulma laughed in glee. "I call that one the disco mix," she explained.

"Is that some sort of pre-World War III thing?" he asked, incredulous. "It's ridiculous!"

"Yeah. 20th century phenomenon. Took the world by storm." She wheeled her chair to the next consul and flipped a switch. A man dressed in a white suit filled the screen, his movements suspiciously similar to that of the Saiyan on the screen just adjacent. Yamcha leaned over to get a closer view.

"It's a movie. The actor is someone named John Travolta. Apparently, those moves propelled him to fame. I found the song in the Capsule Corps archives first, which led me to find the movie. The music is kind of catchy, don't you think?"

Yamcha sneered in disgust, because – how could such a sadistic, terrible song be considered catchy?

She watched him in silent anticipation. Not three seconds later, his eyes flew open wide as his head snapped in her direction. He grinned. "You evil genius!"

She smiled widely, "I know."

He looked back at the screen. "Can he hear it?"

She nodded. "This all started with the music, actually. I found the shittiest songs I could get my hands on and told him it was good for focus. He thinks if he can tune out something so painfully insufferable, he'll be able to improve his concentration." She smirked. "He actually _picked_ this one because he hated it the most."

She wheeled her chair so that she was centered in front of the first screen once again. "The dancing idea came to me after I found the movie. It was fate."

He nodded. "I think I could really learn to like this song."

She gave him a toothy grin and bobbed her head in agreement.

They both watched the Saiyan's movements on the first screen as they mirrored that of the actor on the second.

Yamcha frowned in thought. "It's remarkable that he's dancing for one. But… how the hell does he not know?"

Bulma laughed lightly. "You remember that movie we watched about the karate kid?" He nodded. "The kid thought he was washing cars and painting fences. He didn't realize he was fighting until he was facing an opponent. In this case, I just reversed the scenario. Vegeta thinks he's fighting. Really – it's not that much different to dancing if you think about it."

Watching the Saiyin's liquid movements as he tried to avoid beams, or touch a carefully timed sequence of lights, Yamcha could believe it. "But how did you get him to move so slow?"

Bulma clapped her hands together like she was sharing a secret. "By pushing the gravity up to the point where he can barely stand."

Yamcha's eyebrows went up. "So… he's actually getting real training out of this."

She nodded. "Yup. _And_ I get a show!"

They watched as Vegeta's pelvis undulated, his hips avoiding lasers that burst inches in front of him, followed by inches behind in rapid succession. Moments later, the Saiyan spun, jumped, and landed in a half split before he slid back to his feet. If nothing else, he had an abundance of rhythm.

Bulma cranked up the volume.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah… stayin alive, stayin alive…"

Bulma, dancing in her seat, raised a hand into the air and stuck her finger up. At the same time, her program instructed Vegeta to raise his own finger to touch a blue light high above his head.

At that, Yamcha lost it. To have one of the most powerful beings in the universe literally dancing on puppet strings was too much. If Vegeta ever found out about it….

 _Shit._

Abruptly, he stopped laughing and his knees buckled. If this was supposed to be some kind of leverage Bulma had over Vegeta, she would have to reveal that she had it at some point. So why would Bulma let him in on it? Like jelly, he sank to the floor and landed on his ass. "He's gonna kill me.." he whined in a shrill whisper.

Bulma looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. He returned her gaze, but couldn't see more than her outline through the white sparks swimming in his vision.

"Calm down, bud. I didn't show you this cuz I want you to die."

Yamcha's breath came out in a semi-relieved whoosh. "Then.. why'd you show me?"

She smiled triumphantly at him. "I couldn't keep something this fucking sublime to myself! You gotta give me that!"

He shrugged in acquiescence. Even with his life on the line, even _he_ was tempted to reveal this gem of a secret. But he would find a way. He actually _wanted_ to live….

Bulma continued, "I chose to tell _you_ because now, I have leverage over you, too!"

He scowled.

Slowly, he rose to his feet. Silently, he opened his wallet and plucked out his rookie card – the only one in existence – and handed it over to her. "You're such a bitch," he mumbled with false malice.

She snatched the card out of his fingers and smiled widely at him. "Yep! But I always get what I want!"


End file.
